In Loving Memory PUBLISHED!
by G.Aileen
Summary: Deaths can have a big impact on one's life. To Jody Baker, it affected her, her family, and most importantly - her music. Some say sorrow can heal with time, some say it'll get harder. Will her music deteriorate or blossom? *Only 3 ch. up.*
1. Part I: Chapter 1

A/N: Well, this is my new story. I've been craving to write this since forever. Hope you enjoy. Also, some events in this story actually occurred in real life. Chapter 1 

"_Cause a part of me is dead and in the ground…_

…_Being strong and holding on, Can't let is bring us down,_

_My life with you means everything…"_

_--Daughtry (It's Not Over)_

Music. Music was my life, my dream, my hopes, my goal; it was everything positive to me. Music was my escape from reality, my escape from the harsh facts of life. There was nothing that can separate music and I. That is, I thought nothing could separate us. People have been mistaken so many times in life, and maybe these were one of those times. I remember being so excited to get my first used 'new' instrument in my life. I was five, still not able to speak clearly. I get my words tangled up a lot. Well, my parents took me to my first music store. My father seemed to be more enthusiastic that my mom. Once he brought inside, he automatically brought me to the shiny gold instruments. Brass was his thing and I knew my father loved it. He asked the lady at the cash register if he could doodle on a trumpet and the lady gladly accepted. I'm proud to say my father was an extremely good trumpet player. But my curiosity brought me further than a trumpet. I went down further into this music shop and found it- my instrument.

It twisted and turned and circled and it was shiny. One end of the horn curved out to form some huge bell. My father caught me staring at it. He brought the horn down to my level and I stood in awe in front of it. He said it was French. It confused me; I didn't know instruments had ethnicity. I thought it over to myself then. French fries were French! If a fry could be French, so can this lovely instrument be! Then, he further gave detail on what it really was. I wasn't paying attention really; I just stared. So, turns out, it was really called a French horn. And finally, the moment of truth, he let me blow into the horn. Unfortunately, he stopped me because I was blowing on the wrong end. He said you were supposed to play on the small side. And so I blew. Only air came out though. My father said to buzz my lips into the mouthpiece. I tried again into the small end of the horn and blew. This time a dark, mellow sound came out the other end. A smile appeared on my face. I remember begging my dad to buy it for me. He said something about professional, expensive, and used. What he meant was the horn I was playing was professional and expensive, and that he'll buy a used one for me. I agreed. I was going to get my new horn.

In the car, my dad told me to practice my buzzing. My lips were getting tired as they pulled into Baskin Robbins. My parents led me into the ice cream shop and let me choose any flavor I wanted. As we got what we ordered, my father began his speech. "Now, first thing you need to know, Jody. Never play after you have just eaten. If you must, rinse your mouth out with water and water only." I never knew you had to follow rules to be a musician.

As I grew up, my father gave private lessons on french horn. He taught me the entire musical vocabulary, all the classical composers, and everything else he knew. But, as fifth grade hit, they offered band as an extracurricular activity. Unfortunately, they did not let french horn into beginning band. They only had the basic instruments of flute, clarinet, alto saxophone, baritone, trombones, and the trumpets. I asked my father about this and he replied, "Play trumpet." I thought he was being selfish. Just because trumpet was 'his' instrument… But as he continued, I understood. "I want you to get experienced with playing a full band. And if that's all they can offer to you, trumpet is the closest to the french."

My first day of beginning band was unbearable. Nobody knew anything. And the most annoying person had to be sitting behind me. His name was Oliver and played trombone. He liked to hit my head with his slide. I've yelled at him so many times for this, but the teacher yells at me to quiet down in return. The next days of band, people finally get the concept of playing 'together'. Honestly, is that so complicated? What I also figured out in those days, was that Oliver and my parents were really good friends. So, they made us walk home together. Some friends at school asked if anything was going on between Oliver and me because we spent so much time together. My reply was a snort, smile, shake of the head, and walk away. It was simple, and it got through many conversations with the word 'Oliver' in it.

Junior high was a relief as it came. That meant I finally get to play my french horn in class. Most band kids from elementary quit, and those who stayed switched instruments. Such as I who had switched from a trumpet to the F horn. My friend Irene had switched from flute to oboe. And, I thank God that Oliver switched to Tuba. That meant no more slide-head-hitting. Jazz band was a different story. I began to enjoy the trumpet more than I expected and Oliver decided to join also. Guess what he played- trombone. So when the director wasn't looking he'd hit my arm. Irene played alto sax for jazz and she placed first chair.

As our winter concert came, my excitement was increasing. I had never been that nervous or exhilarated in my entire life. It was my first concert and I couldn't believe it. Irene and I were waiting backstage behind the curtains doing all necessary things to make sure everything goes smoothly. I oiled my valves and she made sure she had plenty more reeds. I peeked through the thick curtains and into the audience making their way into the good seats. I look around and see no sight of my parents. "Who are you looking for?" an annoying voice asked. I turn around and find Oliver in slacks and a white button-up. Without letting me answer, he spoke again. "Don't worry. My parents aren't here either. And Jody, you look, pretty in your concert dress." He stuttered between 'look' and 'pretty' and I found it adorable.

Our band director took stage and introduced us as we walked out from the curtains and into our seats. We played those simple Christmas songs that everybody enjoyed. As my solo came up, I looked out into the audience again. They still weren't here. I stood from my seat and played my solo. As I hit my last note, a tear came rolling from the corner of my eye. Obviously, Oliver noticed because he gave me a pat on my shoulder. The concert ended and I helped put instruments, chairs, and stands away. I walked outside into the cold breeze. Sweater. I should have brought a sweater. It was freezing. My eyes were a little watery. "Hey, Jody," Oliver said as he came up to sit by me. "You did a good job on your solo. It was great." I smiled at him, not knowing what else to say. He knew my parents didn't show up, neither did his. "Are you okay?" he asked as he stripped his jacket and placed it around my shoulders. I shrugged. "Do you need a ride home?" I felt his hand on my back. He was trying to make me feel better and I wasn't acknowledging it at all. "My brother's going to come get me. Do you need a ride?"

"Yeah."

"He's here. C'mon," he took my arm and led me into his brother's car. His brother was a senior in high school and could care less about us. Oliver and I both knew he wanted to graduated and leave town. He was a popular football player at his school and he often mocked Oliver for being a band geek.

Once we reached my house, I thanked his brother for the ride. Oliver was nice enough to walk me to the door. But as I went in, no one was there. I checked all the rooms of the house and no one at all was there. Oliver offered to stay with me until my parents got back and that he wouldn't take no for an answer. I was frantic for awhile until he calmed me down and watched a movie in the living room. In the middle of the movie, the phone rang. I immediately ran to the phone and answered.

"Mom?" I assumed. "Where are you?"

"Honey, I'm at the hospital. There was a car accident. I came out with just a scarred arm, but I don't know about your father. The doctors say he was badly hurt. I don't really know much. I'll call you in the morning, okay hon?'

"Mom," I began. She made a noise on the other line indicating she was still there. "Make sure Daddy's safe." I knew she was hurt by the gasp she made, but she agreed.

Oliver walked into the room as tears came rolling down my face. He wrapped his arms around me. I don't know why, but he had held me a long time. I don't know anyone who is willing to hold a crying girl for twenty minutes. We both fell asleep on the couch until sunup. The phone rang again. I ran for it and answered.

"Mom?" I breathed. "How is he?"

She was crying on the other end. I could hear her pain through the phone. "Jody, your father…" She kept repeating that without ever finishing the sentence. "He's gone." She cried even more. Tears were already falling. I dropped the phone and began to hyperventilate. My father was gone. The only one who shared my love of music, the only one who believed in me is dead.

A few days after, we held a funeral for him. I remember as his casket went down so did my heart. My mother never knew what relationship we had with my father and I. Nor did we share it. So, a few months later, I took my father's death really hard. I wouldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and I refused to play my horn. It reminded me too much of him. In band class, I never played and my teacher never docked me for it. They knew of my father's death and were afraid to speak anything to me. Probably only Irene and Oliver would talk to me. They were good friends, I agree, but they never had a father like mine.

One day, after band class, my band director asked to speak with me in her office. As she showed me where to sit, she began talking. "Jody, I want you to start playing again." She was straightforward. "I also want you to take lessons. You are a good horn player. You just have to learn how to cope with things and move on."

"Easy for you to say." I knew she was taken aback after my statement.

"Jody, Woodbury High School's band director offered to give you lessons. His name is Mr. Allens; he is a french horn player such as yourself. I believe this will hopefully get you playing again. You played with such passion that shocked me. You're only a junior high band student and your standards reach about a junior in high school."

"Mr. Allens? I'm only in eighth grade. He's a high school teacher."

"I know. He went to the winter concert and saw how you played. He wants to start lessons early. But again, this is your decision. You don't have to give an answer right away. Have some time to think about it."

After that, Irene was outside our band director's door waiting for me. She asked what had happened and if I was in trouble. I explained everything to her: how she wanted me to start playing again, how she wanted me to take lessons from a high school teacher, and every other detail she told me. "Are you going to take it?" she asked. "It sounds like a good offer."

I went home that day and took out my french horn. I just stared at it for a moment and remembered all the memories my instrument held. The mouthpiece was unused and the keys were untouched. I finally snapped out of it and played. The warm sound that came out the other end sent a shiver up my spine. I played again, longer this time, and I could almost see my father on the other end of my room. I played again, this time crying causing my eyes to be watery and blurry. As much as it hurt playing, I needed to play again. I decided to take the lessons.

My first day with Mr. Allens wasn't what I expected. We talked more than we did play. He mentioned marching band and that french horns didn't march. I asked him why and he replied that the french horn isn't a marching instrument. "French horns march mellophones during marching season." I have to switch instruments?

"A mellow what?" I watched him go into the band closet and come back out with a box case. He opened it and took out the silver instrument. "Mellophone. It provides a similar sound to the french horn. And the only difference probably is that you have to play with your right hand now." He handed me the horn and let me play on it for awhile. Instantly, I enjoyed it. It was a little hard playing from left hand to the right, but it was coming out okay. After playing a little, Mr. Allens talked about band camp in the summer. He said it was mainly for incoming freshman and rookies, although the veterans will be there.

After my lesson, Irene and Oliver caught up with me. We went to Baskin Robbins and talked a few. They asked how scary our new band teacher was, how hard the music was going to be. When I mentioned band camp, they began to laugh. They thought I wasn't serious, but when they noticed the look on my face, they stopped. "I also have to switch instrument," I said. "It's called a mellophone." They noticed I smiled as I said it. I haven't smiled in a long time.

Graduation day came soon. I was taking my lessons with Mr. Allens once a week and had been practicing mellophone on my free time. My mom had bought a graduation dress for me and it was lain out on my bed. It was pink. Thankfully, the graduation gown was to be worn over the dress, so no one would see. Our graduation was taken place at Woodbury HS's. The high school band played Pomp and Circumstance as we took the stage. Mr. Allens waved when he saw me. The music stopped and the speeches took place. We walked the stage and they handed us our diploma.

After the ceremony, Mr. Allens caught me and introduced me to his band. He led me to the french horn players and introduced us personally. There were only two of them and soon-to-be three. Irene and Oliver came by and they started talking to their new section. Oliver acquainted himself clearly over at the tubas and Irene shyly introduced herself to the flutes and oboes. After that, we all went back to Irene's house for her graduation party.

As summer took place, and my lessons still being taken, band camp rolled by. Honestly, most of the freshmen were nervous. Mr. Allens came out of his office and asked everyone to settle. He introduced himself and his student leaders. There were two drum majors, a student conductor, and others. Leadership interested me, but no freshmen were ever leaders. So, I would have to wait for next year.

The drum majors split us up into five groups, having seven or eight people in each group. They taught us the basic marching steps. There was the mark time, forward hut, backward hut, halt, horns up, dress center, and horns down. I had a little trouble in the beginning, but I was getting better with each coming day. Oliver got the concept of marching rather quickly. He was a natural at it and I was jealous for that. Irene had trouble keeping her flute parallel to the ground. And I couldn't see past the bell of the mellophone. It's all harder than it seems.

Mr. Allens wanted to talk to the brass and percussion after practice. "I want to introduce all of you to…" He seemed excited to talk about it. "To drum corps. Drum corps only consists of brass, percussion, and guard. You know how there's a professional football team- the NFL? Well it goes the same way for band. It's like a professional band, but not a band. It's called DCI. Now if you want more information come talk to me anytime." Oliver was the first to talk to him. He was interested and he loved to march.

By the time camp was over, the rookies had a better grasp on marching and playing at the same time. I remember someone made the analogy of chewing gum and walking at the same time. Our fall season went well. We placed top three in all the competitions we attended. Parade went well, but our field was so much better. The audience clapped and hollered at us. We came home singing on the bus. Irene was probably the worst singer being the one that sat next to me on the bus. Someone in the front of the bus yelled, "Hey band, how do you feel?" And we all knew how to answer that.

Winter season for us was fun. I had joined winter percussion on pit, Irene played the synthesizer, and Oliver marched bass three. It was a fun three months of messing around, which meant not a very high placing for us.

During spring, we did nothing but concert. Concert was great, in my opinion. I finally got to play my french horn. The more I played, the less it hurt me thinking about my dad. Every single moment I laid my fingers on the horn, I felt sadness. Now, it was slowly going away. I was enjoying life a lot more than I did. I had fun with my friends. I went to the mall, the park, and had no obligation to be there. What did this mean? Was I forgetting my father more and more each day? Little did I know it, but Mr. Allens became my father. We've gotten so close over my freshman year. Did I no longer love my father?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Second chapter!!! Enjoy again. Leave Reviews! Chapter 2 

"_There will never come a day_

_You'll ever hear me say_

_That I want and need to be without you"_

_--Brian McKnight (Never Felt This Way)_

Summer came again. Oliver left to go on tour with the Velvet Knights from Pasadena. Irene went to Florida to visit her relatives and I was stuck here. Mr. Allens added another practice in the weeks, knowing I was going to be doing nothing being that my friends were else where. In the beginning of summer, Mr. Allens had switched rehearsal space to my house or his house. Tuesdays at mine, Thursdays at his. It was a good schedule because my mom would leave for work around noon and drop me off at his house on the way.

In mid-June, Mr. Allens exhausted all his teaching techniques. "Jody, you have learned so much and so quickly in one year. I have nothing more I can teach you." Mr. Allens gave his serious face. "I want you to start taking lessons from my friend. His name is Laurence Shuster and a great musician. He also plays French horn."

I sighed. I felt like the music teachers in town were just throwing me around like a game of hot potato. "He teaches at the University uptown. I think this would be a great experience for you. I already talked to him and he said he'd gladly take you in. He said he'll give a discount for old friends."

"Mr. Allens," I hesitated. "I'm not sure if I even want to take the lessons. I'm sure it'd be a great experience, but I don't think my mom can pay for it. I'm sure it must cost a fortune even with the discount."

Mr. Allens sat down next to me. "That is why I'm paying for it. Cost doesn't matter as much now. I see you have great talent. I don't want you to just hide it from the world." He took a few seconds to breathe. "Look, Jody. You're like a daughter to me and I see great things coming your way. You're heading down the path I've always wanted to take, but never could. You're quite the lucky one to have the opportunity. …but it is your decision. I'll support you no matter what."

I smiled at my father type figure. He was being so nice and appreciative about my music, my decisions, and everything else. "I'll do it," I managed to say.

Afterwards, Mr. Allens brought me to the diner for lunch. There, we bumped into some friends from school. It got me thinking about my friends. Irene was an excellent musician. I say give it two or three more years and she'd have learned every musical instrument there ever was invented. She'd always talk about these great music camps that she's always wanted to go to. The only thing was that she wasn't able to because her parents didn't approve her whole music. Her parents were like the most anti-music out of all of them.

What was great about Irene was her talent of improvising. She could sit on a piano stool and press on some random keys and this great, corresponding music would come flowing out. I wished I'd be like her and be so great at improvising. Irene wasn't the only friend I envied. Oliver was another great musician.

Oliver had a talent of multitasking. He could walk and chew gum at the same time. I always thought that would be simple, until I tried it. He had the talent of marching at a fast tempo and his music would be right on beat with his steps. His parents though didn't care much for his music. Oliver asked to do drum corps, being nervous his parents would say no, instead, his parents gave him the money and didn't even ask any questions on what he was spending it on.

My parents- my mom didn't care for my music either. It was more like she didn't mind it, but she'd rather her daughter be studying to be a doctor. My father was really the only who loved music as much as I did. We bonded over that, I'm sure. Now music seems empty without him. It's like have a whole concert band without any tubas to keep the depth of music.

Mr. Allens ended up talking all through lunch of how great opportunity this was. He said that we would start those lessons next week, twice a week. I was nervous of Mr. Shuster. From what I heard about him, he is a legend among French horn players. It was nerve wrecking.

Days passed and it was today that I'd meet the legendary Mr. Shuster. I walked into his office and found him sitting on a computer chair. "So you must be Jody!" he stood and came over to shake my hand. "I've heard so much from you."

I couldn't say anything. My mouth was glued shut and all I could manage was a weak smile. Mr. Shuster laughed and told me to sit. We talked most of the time I spent there. He asked what were my hobbies, what I wanted to be, and other questions like that. All in all, he seemed like a nice guy. He also mentioned he knew my father. Mr. Shuster was my father's instructor back in the day. Before leaving, he said, "Jody, it might seem hard at times, but you've got to pull through- no matter what."

Later that night, I received a call from Irene in Florida. She wanted to see what was happening back here while she was out in the sun having fun. I told her about my new instructor and she sounded happy for me.

"So, has Oliver returned yet?" she asked. I knew where she was going with that. I replied with a no. "You know, Oliver has a huge crush on you, Jody."

"You've told me this a million times before. And like the said million, I will reply the same way. No, he doesn't. He doesn't!"

"I know he doesn't show it! Of course, he's not going to show it to you! But based on what he's said about you, it sure does sound like he likes you."

"Having a crush isn't the same as liking someone."

I heard Irene groan on the phone in frustration. "Okay fine! I give up trying to hook you two together!" There was a moment of silence. "Hey Jody, I bet you are blushing right now."

"What the hell? Where did that statement come from?" I yelled into the phone. Unfortunately, Irene was right.

"Well, whenever we talk about Oliver your cheeks get all red and rosy. I think it's rather funny, if you ask me."

"Sorry to break it to you, Irene," I said. "…but no one was asking you. And I'm going to hang up now because this conversation is over! Bye, love you."

In the mail the next day, I found a letter addressed from the school. The letter informed parents and band member about the upcoming band camp in July. I found band camp rather fun. Basically, it's a week and a half without parents and a week and a half working our asses off in the California sun.

Anyways, two weeks after, Irene came back from Florida. As soon as she arrived home, she called me and asked for me to come over. Of course being her best friend, I had to. I walked into her room finding her unpacking her stuff. I ran over to her, jumped and gave her a huge hug. "Welcome back," I said.

Irene dug into her bag and handed me a bag. "I found this at Disney World and thought of you," she said. I opened the bag and found a snow globe. Inside was a Pirates of the Caribbean figure of Mr. Jack Sparrow. I laughed because she knew exactly what, or who was my favorite obsession. "Thanks!" I yelled and grabbed her and held her in my arms again.

"So, has Oliver come back yet?" she asked, smiling suspiciously.

I looked at her, gave a sigh and said he wasn't back yet. "Why are you wondering anyways?" I raised an eyebrow at her.

"No reason," she commented, unbelievingly. I eyed her down, until she spoke again. "Okay! I'll tell you. Just promise you do didn't hear this from me." I agreed.

"Okay, here it goes. Oliver told me that he was planning on asking you out when he came back." My stomach knotted. "He said, he's been missing you and…" While she listed everything, I didn't know exactly what to think. My stomach was filled with things that made me feel like I was floating. My cheeks were burning. "Now you promise you won't say anything, Jody?" I stared off into space. "Jody?" Irene waved a hand in front of my face, but I made no signal of my life being active. She shook me this time and I, at first, didn't know what exactly had happened.

"So what are you saying?" I asked her. "That he likes me?"

"Yeah."

"Is this a good or bad thing?" I asked another question. Before she could answer, I asked another question. "Do I like him?"

"Jody, you see, I don't know." Her answer wasn't quite satisfying. "You never exactly showed any signs of you liking him. Except maybe that one time at band camp…" She stopped what she was saying, laughed, noticing her cliché.

"What did I do at band camp?" I asked, still being serious.

She sat on her bed and smiled at me. I was confused and all she could do was smile. "Jody, you have to find out if you like him or not. I can't be the judge of that."

Thursday came and it was time for another lesson with Mr. Shuster. As I sat in the seat with my horn, he went through his files looking for music for me to sight read. Sight reading wasn't my strongest point, but could do it well enough. He set the music on my stand and said, "Mind the dynamics, articulation, swells, accidentals, and the syncopated rhythms." That's a lot to have on your mind.

Well, I went through the music, had to stop a couple times, tripped on the notes, and somehow choked on my spit. Mr. Shuster laughed. After a couple more run thoughs, it was time to end. "I'll see you next week, Jody." I was really upset at how I couldn't get through the music without stopping. As soon as I got home, I wanted to practice and get everything straight, but unfortunately, it was around eight at night, and my mom would be sleeping.

So instead of sleeping so early, I stayed in my room, sat in my chair, and worked out the music Mr. Shuster had given me. I wrote in the notes that I couldn't quite get. I would regularly check my clock. Around ten my mother would wake up and get ready for work. She worked the grave yard shift. She would regularly do overtime, or pull a double shift. She'd come home and just sleep and start all over again.

The alarm clock showed 11:15. And at that moment, I heard the car engine turn on and drive off. I got my French horn out and played the music with the corrections I made. My embouchure was about to wear out, but I kept pushing forward. Then, out of nowhere, I heard the springs of my bed move up and down. I looked at that direction and found a familiar person. The sight was blurry, but enough to see that something was really there.

"Jody," the blurry sight said. The sight began to clear and it was my father there smiling at me. I began to shiver. "So, I see you're still playing."

My hands were shaking and my eyes started to tear up. "Dad?"

"I'm glad you continued with your music. You have progressed so much since the last time I saw you."

The tears began flowing immediately. "Don't cry, hon. I'm here. I'm always here for you. Don't ever forget that." My father began to disappear from me. The last thing he said before he was gone completely was, "I'm proud of you."

"Come back!" I yelled to nothing.

I cried for a couple minutes. Either he was trying to say something to me or I was crazy and hallucinating. I smiled finally analyzing what last thing he had said. "Thank you," I said into the air with my eyes closed.

A few minutes after that, I heard something hit my window. I walked to my window and found Oliver standing outside with rocks in his hands. He made head movement asking me to come outside. I grabbed shoes from my closet and walked outside into the warm night. "I came earlier today, but your mom told me you were out. So, I'm back," he said.

"So, I see," I replied, wiping the rest of wet tears from below my eyes.

He stepped closer. "Everything okay?" he asked. "You were crying?"

I'm glad he actually cared. I smiled. "I'm fine. What's in your hand?" I noticed the plastic bag he was holding. It was a yellow bag that said _Welcome to Atlanta_. "Atlanta. Nice. You guys must've traveled far."

"This is actually for you," he handed me the bag. "Don't open it yet. Wait until I leave, alright?" he said, nervously. I nodded my head.

"Tell me, how was your trip?" I asked intrigued. He was wearing his corps jacket. He already had stuff sewn unto it. "Do anything dangerous, illegal?"

He really seemed nervous around me tonight. Maybe Irene was right. Maybe he was going to ask me tonight at this hour. Maybe not. "I got a tattoo," he replied, with a smile.

"What?" I asked, panicking. "You're parents are going to kill you."

"That was a joke, Jody. Honestly, you haven't changed at all this summer." He laughed. "I bet you didn't even notice I was gone."

I playfully hit his arm, and then noticed that move made us both uncomfortable this time. I kind of stared at him for awhile, then realized what I was doing and looked up into the dark sky. Oliver and I were both under a beautiful, night sky. Was I setting myself up for this? He smiled at me. "Did you miss me?" he asked with soft words. I finally realized how attracted I was to him. He never looked this handsome before he left on tour.

I nodded my head without saying anything. "I missed you, too," he said, but quieter, whisper-like. That really made my heart melt.

So, the smart thing to do, before I turn into a puddle of gooey mush, was to leave now. I was about to explode of how he was acting tonight towards me. "I'll see you tomorrow, Oliver." I turned to leave, but he had caught my hand and turned me around into his arms. His lips touched mine. His warmth made me comfortable in his arms, while we kissed. As he departed from me, he said, "Good night." And he walked away.

Well, wasn't that awkward? I walked back into my room and slept with a smile on my face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_Find yourself running for the door_

_come and take me home_

_lead me to your door_

_take me where u are._

_lead me to your door "_

_--Dishwalla (Home)_

The next morning, I awoke remembering that Oliver had given me a bag last night. Without getting up from my bed, I reached for the bag which was right next to the bed on the floor. Opening it us, I found a simple black shirt with the words Velvet Knights printed on the front in a big font. I took out the shirt from the bag, and held it in my arms. Then, I noticed a note left in the bag. I took it out and read:

"Hey, Jody. I was going to get you something better than this shirt, but I realized my parents didn't give me much money on the trip. Trust me; this is better than what I gave to my own parents."

I smiled. I finally got the energy to get up, so I walked into the bathroom and took a shower. For some reason, I actually sang in the shower. Really loud and out of tune. I expected so much more being a music student.

I got out of the shower and noticed a loud engine across the street. I looked out from the living room window and saw a grey moving truck backing up into the parking way to the door of the garage. That house had been on sale since a long time ago. I'm glad there'll be occupants now living there.

I went into the kitchen and found a note on the counter. It was from my mother saying, "I'm out with friends. I'll be back around five with food." Now, my mother never had time off. And when she did, I wanted her to go out and have fun. We rarely had time for each other, but that was how we lived now.

I checked the answering machine and had one missed call. I let it run for awhile. "Hello, we are unable to answer your call. Please leave your name, number, and message after the tone. Beep!" It was quiet for awhile, but I finally heard someone's voice. "Mom? Jody? It's Greg. I was just wondering what's going on. I haven't spoken to either of you since…" There was a long pause and a sigh. "…since the funeral. I was just letting you know I'm stopping bye at around three. Alright, I will see you. Bye."

Greg, my brother, had a reputation of disappearing. He'd be here for a second and be gone the other. He went to a college about two hours from where I live. He hated living with us, and I remember he had told me that he had wanted to leave as soon as he graduated. True to his word, he did.

Around noon, I got my French horn out and began to practice the piece Mr. Shuster had chosen for me. I loved to just mess around on my instrument, popping some high notes, or doing scales with straight sixteenths. After I was warmed up, I put my horn down, paced around my room buzzing my chops. I walked over to my dresser and found a picture of my family. That picture was taken a long time ago, probably when I was in sixth grade. My mom and my brother stood together and my dad was holding me. There were festive lights in the background and confirmed that it was happy times. I gave a sigh and went back to my French.

I played for about three hours. I was going to go on with my practice, but I heard the doorbell ring. Carefully setting down my horn, I ran to the door and opened it up. On the other side stood my tall, brown-haired, brother.

"Jo!" he exclaimed, giving me a hug. "How are you?" I led him inside into the living room and he set his stuff on the couch.

"Why are you here, Greg?" I asked with full curiosity. "You haven't been here and why do you decide to show up now?"

He jumped onto the couch without answering. He let himself turn on the television and laid back. "How's school going?"

I was getting irritated at him, so I just left into the kitchen and grabbed the house phone. I dialed my mom's number, hoping she'd pick up. Unfortunately, there was no answer on the other line. I called Irene this time, knowing she would pick up. Her mom picked up though.

"Ms. Wasson, hi. Can I please talk to Irene?" I asked.

"Yes. One moment." A couple seconds later, she was on the other line. "Jody? What's up?"

"Hey, do you maybe want to go hang out today? I really don't want to be home right now, so I was just wondering."

"Yeah! Let me ask mi Madre." There was a couple seconds of silence. "She said yeah. I'll walk over to your house right now. See you in a bit." The line went dead. The great thing about having your best friend living two blocks down was that she could come over anytime she or I wanted.

Before she arrived, I put my French horn away in her case. Irene and I ended up going to Starbucks for awhile. When we drank our beverages, Irene brought up a question. "So, why the sudden urge to leave the house?"

I took a sip of my Mocha Latte, and answered, "My brother came for no apparent reason. I asked him why, and all he did was watch TV!"

"Oh Jo, maybe he just misses you and your mom. Maybe it's a friendly visit or something like that."

"Well, I hope so. I can't deal with anymore drama dealing with him. It makes me angry and stressed. And I can't be stressed! School hasn't started yet!"

"Speaking of school, how's Oliver doing?" What? There was absolutely no connected between those two at all.

"How did you get Oliver out of 'speaking of school'?" I asked. "There's no connection!" I moved around in my chair finding another comfortable position.

"Has he come back from tour?"

"Maybe. Why do want to know?"

"I have my reasons." We battled with our eyes.

Irene would have to figure it out sometime, might as well be now, I figured. "He came back yesterday." I watched as Irene sat at the edge of her seat. "We talked about stuff last night. And then he left."

"That's it?" Irene shouted again.

"There might've something else that happened, but I'm not too sure myself if it really happened."

"What happened?" she urged.

"There might've been a kiss." I felt my cheeks burning, while Irene laughed with excitement.

Then, my cell rang. It was flashing my mother's number on the screen. "Mom?"

"When did your brother get in?" she asked.

"Around three. I tried calling you about it, but you didn't pick up. Do you know why he's back?"

"No, honey. I haven't asked yet, he's asleep on the couch. Don't be out too late, okay?"

"Yes Mom. Bye."

Later that night, I walked into my house finding absolute silence. It felt as if the world was still and the time did not tick on. Then, a sudden crash came from the kitchen. I ran into there with no hesitation to see what had happened. I found my brother on the ground, cleaning up the shattered glass. I bent down to help him and saw his eyes were watery.

"Greg, what's wrong?" I asked. I watched him pick up glass in his bare hands and it cutting into his skin. I grabbed his hands, letting the glass fall back on the floor. "What's going on?"

"It's all my fault." He let his back rest on the wall. I watched him cry as I helped his bloody hands. "I was on the phone with him when it happened."

"What are you talking about?" He spoke so many things, but I could not accumulate what was being said.

"I'm talking about Dad, Jo. We were on the phone, fighting. He was driving to your concert. I don't even know what we were fighting about. I was too stubborn to even listen anymore, so I hung up. And then it happened."

I found myself tearing up, also. "Greg, it's not your fault. It was just bad luck, you know. It could've happened to any of us."

"I never apologized to him. And this had been a burden in me, Jo, for the longest time. That's why I came back. I need him to forgive me."

"We can go to the cemetery tomorrow, okay? Right now, you need to go to sleep. I'll finish cleaning up in here. You can sleep in my room." He did as he was told, and I did finish cleaning the glass. My mom arrived home an hour later and wondered what had happened. I explained everything and she had a pity smile on her face. She went upstairs into my room and talked to Greg while I slept on the couch that night.

The next morning, I found Greg sitting on my legs. I tried kicking him off, but he wouldn't move. Instead, he pulled me out of bed (or the couch), and told me to go get dressed. I did what I was told. I peeled out of my clothes and got a new change, I washed my face, ate breakfast, and in a matter of no time, I was sitting in the passenger seat of my brother's car.

We drove to the end of the road, finding the cemetery there. We parked and nervously walked unto the grass. I felt my heart beating slower and slower, and the time seemed to stop as I walked closer to my father's tombstone. I watched my brother fall to his knees and talk to the rock. The wind blew stronger and I felt like it was talking to me. "Thank you for bringing him to me," the wind said.

I didn't do anything. I didn't bring my brother to my father. He came on his own terms and his own time. I didn't deserve to get any credit at all. This made me so confused for the rest of the day.


	4. Thank you readers

_It's done! I promised the last page to go out to all the reviewers of the story. So thank you Belen, Mayra, Luz, Marcella, itsnotjustyou, merenwen99, LittleDM92, Lily, Ashley(Ley Ley), Katie, Lily-Snape-568, Alejandra, Sushi Roll, Xplosive, me, mattlovesband, imba-lover-always, mellogrl, iPlayfHorn, RachxSaxophonexTwilight, mia, vicksi.!, salaleigh, amethystuchiha, my sister, Spazmodic23, TimeGoesOn, dutchesscourtney, Singintoyourself_

_Also, special special special thanks go out to PureHavoc21 and Bryanezzle. These two helped me out of writer's block multiple times during the years._

_So what do you guys think? Leave me some comments/criticism/etc. Should I write a sequel? Let me know!_

_And finally check out my new story entitled "Drum Major Status". It's completely different from In Loving Memory. It's definitely lighter on the drama, but its still there. _

_Thank you, so so so so so so much._

_-Jollibee, Genevieve Aileen_


	5. IN LOVING MEMORY PUBLISHED PLZ BUY!

August 5, 2011

Hey everyone! It's me again. I just want to thank ALL of you for reading this story. An update for you all: I am publishing this book and it will be on sale online in a few weeks. This is very exciting for me. I hope to still get your support by buying yourself a copy. I really need money for school. I am a music major planning on transferring to University of California, Davis. As we already know, tuition all over the nation has increased making it harder for a lot people to get a good education. I DO NOT plan on dropping out of school anytime soon. So please, help keep me in school!

www(dot)createspace(dot)com/3579489 (Why can't I post links in this darned thing, lol?)

Thanks again. I always remember, that YOU were the first to believe in this story. I cannot express how much I love you guys.

Peace, love, and thanks.

-Genevieve Aileen.


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